


Catching Light

by Vae



Category: Firefly RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-16
Updated: 2007-07-07
Packaged: 2017-11-14 09:38:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/513859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vae/pseuds/Vae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sean visits Jewel in Vancouver while she's working on Stargate: Atlantis. Of course, that's not the only show that films in Vancouver, and of all the bars in all the city...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Spark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [apieceofcake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/apieceofcake/gifts).



It starts when Sean's visiting Jewel. 

He's not expecting it, not looking for it. After all, it's not like his career's exactly stable. He should be focusing on that, hassling his agent, working his ass off through pilot season. But no, he's up in Vancouver, visiting a friend who is working, and dragging her out to some bar she's been talking about. Not that Jewel ever needs a lot of dragging to go to a bar, even on a work night before another early work morning. Matt's cautioned him about letting her get too drunk, as if there's anything he could do to stop that. Thankfully, she doesn't seem determined tonight.

He leans back against the bar, beer held loosely in one hand, letting her chatter about Stargate wash over him. It doesn't mean much. He's never watched the show. A few episodes that Morena did, maybe, but he's vaguely aware that Jewel's doing something slightly different. 

The room's half-full, not too busy yet, and his attention's caught by a couple of guys over by the pool table. There's a giant leaning over, poised to take a shot when hair falls into his eyes and he straightens up, swearing and laughing, to push it back. His companion just quirks an eyebrow and knocks back his drink, something harder than the beer Sean's drinking, in smaller glasses, but strong enough to make the man gasp slightly, shaking his head before he stands up to reveal that he's nearly as tall as the giant. Expressive grey eyes sweep past Sean, flicking back just long enough for Sean to register serious interest, before the stranger pushes up off of his stool and heads towards him. No, not towards him. Towards the bar.

"You're staring, Sean." Jewel's voice pulls him out of his trance with a start. He raises his beer to cover his confusion, and meets her eyes. She's not fooled for an instant. "Seen something you like?"

Sean can't stop his gaze sliding to the side for a moment as the man gets closer. He moves well, too, easy, relaxed walk, half-grin on his face, one hand coming up to run fingers through short, dark-blond hair.

"Sean!"

The bottle of beer knocks embarrassingly against the bar as he turns back to her, heat of a slight flush coloring his cheeks when he sees her grin. "What? He just looks kind of familiar, that's all."

She sniggers, puts her empty glass on the bar and taps it meaningfully. He sighs, pulls a bill out of his pocket and signals the barkeep for another round. "What did I say this time?"

"Are you gonna buy one for Jen, as well?" One elbow propped on the bar, Jewel twinkles at him. He recognizes that look too well. It's the look that says 'I know something you want to know'.

"Jen?" He tries to keep it casual, but there's no chance of fooling her.

She pats his arm consolingly. "Honey, you really don't know? You so need to start watching TV. That's Jensen Ackles." He gives her a blank look. "Jensen Ackles? Supernatural? Dark Angel? Smallville? Days of Our Lives?"

"Sorry." He shakes his head. "I know the names, but..."

He's expecting a sigh, or a scolding, or another lecture about popular culture, but none of those happen. Instead, Jewel tilts her head to one side, gives him a speculative look that really should have set off alarm bells, and smiles, leaning over to shout past him down the bar. "Hey, Jen! Come meet Sean!"

The man - Jensen, Sean reminds himself - looks up, catches Sean's eye, and grins. 

That's where it starts.


	2. Kindling the Spark

"You don't play?"

Sean glances away from the pool table, where Jewel's currently leaning over, giggling at the giant who's trying to show her how to line up a shot. Jensen's back from the bar, head tilted, one elbow lodged on the shelf next to Sean, looking straight at him. It's pretty clear that Jensen means more than pool, but Sean's not quite ready (or drunk enough) to acknowledge that.

Resisting the urge to claim an expertise he really doesn't have, Sean shakes his head, taking another gulp of beer and transferring his gaze back to the pair at the table. "Not much." He offers a half-smile, foot hooking around the leg of his stool. "Besides, I don't think Jewel would forgive me for interrupting."

There's another squeal of laughter from Jewel, echoed by a lower chuckle from Jensen. "She's getting better. First time she played, Jay nearly strangled her. Now, she's not bad. For a Canadian."

Sean stops trying not to look at Jensen, and catches the mischief sparkling in grey eyes. No, not grey. He's forced to reassess that. There are hints of green, hints of blue, even an edge of brown...he's not sure how to classify it, but it's intriguing. He could look into those eyes for a long time. And he's staring again, which Jensen acknowledges with a slow grin and a nod. And no sign of objection. In fact, if anything, he's staring right back. Fingers worrying at the seam of his jeans by his knee, Sean wonders what he sees.

"So, you wanna take them on?" Jensen gestures towards the table with his glass. "You and me, against the kids."

Which is how Sean finds himself watching denim stretch over the tight curves of Jensen's ass as he bends over the table. It's not a bad view, but his attention's definitely not on the pool game. Any ideas he might have had about impressing Jensen with his pool skills were abandoned the moment Jensen took his first shot. Because Jensen's _good_. Far better than Sean. Sean's pride is barely salvaged by the fact that he's better than Jewel, because Jensen's friend Jared is damn good, too. In fact, if the pair of them weren't actors, as Jewel assures him they are, they'd have no problem making a decent living hustling pool.

He can't quite make sense of the signals he's getting from Jensen. In any other situation, he'd be pretty sure that the constant brushing up against him, the not-quite-accidental touches to his back, his arm, his shoulder, was a definite come-on. But Jensen's clearly easy about touching his friend as well, and the casual hugs are doled out impartially to Jewel, Jared, _and_ Sean.

"No TV, huh?" A warm voice interrupts his contemplation of the strip of tanned back visible above the waistband of Jensen's jeans.

"Sorry?" Sean blinks, readjusting his focus. Jared's grinning at him across the pool table. Jewel's doing her best to distract Jensen from his shot. It's not working.

"Jewel says you've got no TV."

He sends a glare in her direction. She looks up, offers him a sunny smile and a wink, and goes back to pestering Jared. "I _have_ a TV. I just don't _watch_ a lot of TV!"

Jensen flashes Sean a grin, then sinks his shot. "See, Jay? There are guys in the world who don't spend their weekends watching TV with their dogs."

"Shut it, Smeckles." Jared's response is automatic, lack of heat indicating that it's a long-standing disagreement. "Not like you turn down the chance to watch the game on a big screen."

"He's right again." Jensen purses his lips, surveying the table. It's nearly empty. 

"Sean watches DVDs," Jewel puts in, abandoning the sabotage campaign and coming around to sling an arm around his shoulders. His arm slips around her waist in return. She's swaying slightly on her spike heels, and he tightens his hold. "He's got this collection of, like, _really_ old movies."

"Classics," Sean corrects absently. He's still watching Jensen, who's neatly cleared the table, and is looking deservedly smug about it.

Jared takes one look, curses, and produces a bill from his pocket. Jensen laughs, and takes it. For a few seconds, Sean can't take his eyes from Jensen's mouth. The man's got a fucking beautiful mouth. He can't help wondering how it feels, how it tastes. Any other time, he'd be doing something about finding out, but, fuck it, he's visiting Jewel, he's got nowhere to invite the guy back to, and plus, this is one of Jewel's _friends_. 

Jewel's fingers digging into his shoulder remind him of that, and he smiles, standing up, hauling Jewel closer again when her arm slips away from his shoulders. It's good to be taller than someone, at least. With these two guys, it's as bad as being in a room with Nathan and Adam. Although the scenery's definitely more appealing. He'd never be having thoughts about kissing _Nathan_. As for Adam, well...just the idea's enough to shake him back to his senses.

"Guess that's my round, then." Jensen grins, displays the twenty between crossed fingers, and glances at the bar. The grin fades. "Or not. Sorry, kiddies, we're too late."

"Oh, but we could go on somewhere?" Jewel asks hopefully. "There's this karaoke place right around the corner -"

"No!" Sean interrupts, louder than he'd intended, then looks to Jensen and Jared for support. "No karaoke. Right?"

Jared just shrugs and grins. "I'm too sober for that, but hey, you guys wanna sing your hearts out...Jenny can't sing a note, though, so..."

"Please, Seanie?" Jewel wheedles, twisting under his arm to look up at him, hand fastening onto his arm when that makes her wobble again. "You're always saying you wanna sing more..."

"Dude, you sing?" Jensen's mouth curves, uneven quirk of one corner of his mouth that has Sean thinking about kissing again. Not singing. Definitely not singing.

"No," he replies hastily. "And I really need to get Jewel home. Right, Jools?" He offers the nickname she hates in return for the one he does, and gets a sulky pout back.

Jensen and Jared exchange a look. Jensen tucks the bill away, and Jared produces car keys. "Look, you guys wanna get a lift some place? I'm driving tonight, and Jewel's place is right on my way home."

Jewel brightens. "Oh, that works! You guys could come back to ours for a while, right?"

Sean's heart stops for a beat or two. It's not that he's eager to lose Jensen's company, but back at Jewel's place, quiet and private, rather than a public bar? That's going to make temptation even harder to resist.

Jensen looks him right in the eye, gives that slow smile that warms the cold Vancouver evening, and nods.


	3. Catching Alight

"...and then he _fell_. Right off the wall!" Jewel dissolves into giggles again.

Sean suppresses the urge to smother his friend. The last half hour's felt like some kind of contest, with Jewel and Jared competing to find the story that will embarrass Sean or Jensen most. He has to allow that Jewel's actually kept the most personal and embarrassing ones to herself, and Jared's probably done the same for Jensen. Probably.

He's not drunk. He knows that much for definite, and by comparison with Jewel, again. She's curled in the corner of the couch, shoes kicked off, eyes sparkling, hair a mess, Teddy snuggled lazily against her folded legs. Jared's sprawled at the other end of the couch, idly petting Teddy with one hand, a coke in the other. That's the couch full. Jensen had started in the armchair, but at some point, possibly out of embarrassment, he's slid down to join Sean on the floor.

From past experience, Sean guesses that it's about ten more minutes before Jewel's energy abruptly drains away, and she'll be asleep where she is. At least that'll stop the stories...and he doesn't actually mind hearing the ones about Jensen. Or watching Jensen's reactions to them. Although, if Jewel decides to start talking about Dive or, God forbid, that CSI Miami he ended up doing, then he's definitely going to start retaliating. She's still sensitive about her guest slot on Dead Like Me.

Jensen's leaning most of his weight on one hand, invitingly close to Sean's hip. It would only take the slightest of movements to make contact, and seem completely accidental. It's more effort not to do it. Risking taking his attention away from Jewel for a few seconds and turning it in a far more inviting direction, he glances over at Jensen, letting his hips roll with the change of balance. It's a shock when their eyes meet. He'd expected Jensen to be watching Jewel, but those clear eyes are aimed straight at him, mild amusement lurking in their depths.

Draining his beer and setting the bottle down at a safe distance, Sean swallows, and then licks his lips. Alcohol's a whatsit, right, dries out the body, that's why his mouth feels dry despite the beer. Nothing to do with the gorgeous man stretched out next to him. Watching him.

"How drunk _were_ you?" Jensen mutters. The whiskey he's been drinking's found its way into his voice, darkening consonants, sliding syllables into each other in a molasses-rich tone that Sean can't help but find compelling.

He considers for a moment, watching Jewel out of the corner of his eye, but her attention's all on Jared and Teddy. "Very," he admits softly, with a rueful grin. "That was the day we got official notice of cancellation."

Jensen purses his lips, giving Sean more thoughts about kissing them, and tilts his head in acknowledgment, silently toasting Sean before knocking back the contents of his glass. "Man, that sucks."

There's not much Sean can say to that which isn't either agreement or something that would open him up to a slander action from Fox executives. Instead, he just nods, and drops further back, propping himself up on one elbow instead of his hand. His attention's drawn back to the couch conversation when the word "kimono" is distinguishable amidst giggles, and Jensen's eyes widen in alarm, then narrow purposefully. "Don't go anywhere, 'kay? I just gotta..."

Sean nods again. He's not got anywhere else to go, but he's not inclined to point that out right now, as Jensen hoists himself to his feet, emphasizing that height again, and heads out of the room. He can make a pretty good guess where Jensen's headed, and he's not minded to follow. 

"...dancing, I swear!" Jared gasps, between bursts of laughter. Jewel's giggling, too, though her eyes are half-closed, and her head's resting against the back of the couch. Maybe less than ten minutes.

Before Sean can pick up on the story again, and find out what the fuck a kimono's got to do with dancing, Jared's interrupted by the electronic melody of something Sean vaguely recognizes as a song he heard on the radio yesterday. Jared sits up straight fast enough to disturb Teddy, and gropes around until he locates a small, slim, achingly trendy-looking cell phone. "Sandy," he offers to Jewel in explanation. An annoyed female voice can just be heard from the speaker.

Sean frowns his incomprehension at Jewel, who mouths "girlfriend" before leaning back again, closing her eyes. That makes sense. It also makes sense of the expression of guilt spreading over Jared's face as he stands, heading towards the door, muttering platitudes into the phone. Covering the mouthpiece with one hand, Jared glances at Jewel, then over at Sean. "Look, I gotta...she's...can you tell Jen I had to...?"

"Yeah, sure." He nods, not moving from his position on the floor. Jared shoots him a look of gratitude, and disappears. A few seconds later, the sound of the door closing and the roar of a car engine starting up mark his departure.

A brief glance tells him that Jewel's pretty much gone. Her mouth's slightly open, eyes closed, and if he even mentions the cute little snore when she's conscious, she'll definitely be after revenge, and her ongoing feud with Nathan's already convinced him of her devious mind. It won't get mentioned. Still, he can't leave her to sleep on the couch, not when she's working tomorrow.

She murmurs something unintelligible when he tries to pry her out of her corner, and pushes him away. With a grin, he tries again, with much the same result. Well, no one can say he didn't try to wake her. Abandoning the subtle approach, he scoops her up, standing carefully to make sure she's balanced in his arms, then glares at the door for daring to be closed when he doesn't have a free hand to open it. Amazingly, the glare seems to work.

Matt's face appears around the door, blurred from sleep, clearing rapidly when he catches sight of his wife. "Oh, God. Whiskey?"

"At least it wasn't cocktails," Sean agrees, lowering her carefully back to the ground as she begins to stir. 

Jewel blinks at him, at Matt, and then drapes her arms around her husband's neck and leans against him. "Take me to bed..."

"Oh, hey, am I interrupting something?" Jensen's grinning face appears over Matt's shoulder. 

Matt sighs, catches Jewel when she falters, and glances back at Jensen. "Only Jewel at the _end_ of the night."

Jensen stands back to let them past, raising one eyebrow at Sean when he doesn't move to follow. 

"Your, uh..." He realizes that he's fiddling with his shirt when a button catches under his nail, and he draws in a slow, steadying breath, looking up into Jensen's eyes. "Jared had to go. His girlfriend called, and -"

"I know," Jensen interrupts, grin spreading, warmth filling his gaze and spilling across the small space between them to heat through Sean. "I called her."


	4. Fanning the Flames

With Jared gone and Jewel firmly removed, the atmosphere in the living room changes. By unspoken mutual consent, Sean and Jensen return to the floor rather than the now-empty couch. Sean's still not sure if that was a good idea. Jensen, sprawled out on the carpet, doesn't look any less inviting than Sean imagines he would on Jewel's couch. _Jewel's_ couch, right, not his own, guest in this house, and shit, can't make a move, how fucking tacky would that be, making a move on one of Jewel's friends in Jewel's house?

"Hey. You going to sleep on me here, buddy?"

Sean blinks and shakes his head. Jensen's watching him, head tilted to one side, and there's no way he's mistaking the invitation in those eyes, the temptation in the curve of lips, not to mention the easy way Jensen's facing him, stretched out like a cat asking for his belly to be rubbed. Fuck, he'd love to rub that belly. Taut muscles just visible below the rucked-up t-shirt. Actually, screw rubbing it. Sean's aching to taste it. Roll across towards him and press lips to that warm skin, lips, teeth, tongue, work his way down...

"Sean?"

Right. Right, yeah, Jensen said something. Something he needed to answer. Answer with words, not just lust. He clears his throat, offering a sheepish grin. "Sorry. Nah, I'm good. You were saying? Another drink?"

White teeth flash when lips part, smile stretching to a grin. "Maybe a soda or something? Any more and I'm gonna be the one falling asleep. You working at the moment?"

Ah. That question. Sean makes himself roll away from Jensen rather than towards him, standing up. "Nothing right now. A few things lined up, y'know, irons in the fire..." Pure bullshit, and anyone in the business knows it. 'Lined up' means more fucking auditions, nothing fixed, no contract. He's not done anything since that TV movie for A&E, and it looks like Linda was right about that after all.

"Too bad. I've seen some of your stuff." Jensen pushes himself to his feet with a grunt that sends Sean's mind off in inappropriate directions again. "You're good."

For a moment, Sean wonders how or where Jensen's seen his work, and then gets reminded again - Jewel. Fiercely loyal Jewel, who's got copies of everything he's done - along with everything Nathan, Alan, Adam, Chris, Ron, Summer and Gina have done. She's probably got copies of Morena's stuff as well, she'll just never admit it. His hand rises almost without his intending it, scratching at the back of his neck in vague embarrassment. "Thanks, I guess? I can't say the same, sorry. But you're still filming up here, right?"

"Right. And hey, you ever wanna check it out, I'm pretty sure Jewel's got my old stuff, but whatever." The smile Jensen gives him can't be described as anything other than shy, and Sean can't stop himself returning it, soft and warm. "Whatever. I mean, it's kinda...okay, _weird_ , but good. Meeting a guy that's not gonna muddle me up with Dean."

Sean's fingers stop, tangled in his hair. Just for a second. That's the phrasing that tells him he's not been reading the signals wrong. Not 'meeting someone' but 'meeting a guy'. Keeping his hands - and his mouth, and the rest of his body - off of Jensen is getting harder with every passing moment. He lowers his hand with a huff of laughter, taking the empty glass. Fingers brush together, sparking heat and shit, another time, another place... "I can promise I won't do that, anyway." He forces himself to look away from Jensen's face, turning to head through to the kitchen. "Soda, right? Get comfy, I'll be right back."

He's probably imagining the drawled murmur about being one hell of a lot more comfy when he gets back. Nearly definitely.


	5. Let It Burn

By the time Sean gets back to the living room, a can of soda in each hand, he's back in control of himself. He's given himself a stern talking-to on the subject of self control, and pointed out that he really doesn't do one night stands. And that with a guy who lives in Vancouver, it couldn't be anything more, because long distance relationships get messy.

The trouble is, he's not quite sure he's listened to himself.

When he sees that Jensen's moved from the floor to the couch, and is lounging against the cushions with his eyes closed, he's pretty certain he didn't listen to himself, because that, right there, is a living, breathing temptation to try out messy. Or at least a one night stand. Jensen's sneakers are discarded down on the floor, socks balled up and stuffed inside them. One bare foot's propped on the opposite knee. Sean's never considered feet to be a particularly appealing body part before, and he's seen a fair range of them in yoga class, but Jensen's feet definitely add to the list of attractions. 

"Your momma never tell you that it's rude to stare?"

Sean's gaze snaps up to Jensen's face, heart skipping a beat in surprise. One eye's cracked open and regarding him in amusement, and there's a lazy smile stretching those perfect lips. "Sorry, I...fuck, you scared me. I thought you were asleep!"

"Not yet." Jensen's foot slips down to the ground as he stretches, then sits up, elbows resting on his knees, leaning forwards to look up at Sean. "Matt said it's okay to crash here, though. Said you'd know where to put me."

Oh yeah. He can think of a few possibilities. Most of them unrepeatable. Covering those thoughts with an easy smile, Sean offers the soda. "Sure. I'll get the bed made up in the spare room, you can take that for tonight."

A frown draws Jensen's brows together as he reaches to take the can. "I'm not gonna turn you out of your bed, man. This'll do me fine." He slaps a hand against the cushion, and settles back for emphasis, knees tucking up to settle feet under him, toes just visible.

Telling himself to stop looking at the toes, Sean settles at the opposite end of the couch, propping one arm on the back, fingers tracing the circle of the top of his can. "If Jewel finds out I let you sleep on the couch, she'll skin me alive."

"Probably," Jensen agrees, with a glance from under his eyelashes that Sean can't quite read. "And if she finds out that I turned you out of your bed..."

It's obviously a no-win situation. Sean can think of one solution, but he's really not going to let himself suggest that. Definitely not. At all.

"Dude, will you just _chill_?" Jensen's voice is warm, rich with a mix of amusement and frustration. "Relax, okay? I'm not gonna bite you!" He grins, one eyebrow quirking, leaning down to put the unopened can of soda on the floor. "Unless you ask me real nice."

Sean chokes on his mouthful of drink at the mental images flooding his brain at the drawled suggestion. Definitely not helping him relax. Not when all he _wants_ to do is relax, lean over, and find out what that drawl tastes like. Find out how those lips feel against his own, and oh yeah, how those perfect teeth feel biting him. Drawing the back of his hand across his mouth, he shakes his head, laughing, risking a glance at Jensen, and God, that's a mistake. Jensen's stretched out again, long limbs spread over cushions, mischief and invitation in his eyes, and that mouth, fuck, that mouth's never looked more tempting, and Sean's blaming the last couple of beers and that mouth for the words that escape his own. "How nice are we talking about here?"

Jensen freezes for a moment, eyes wide, and Sean can't help a tiny frisson of satisfaction that he's not the one wrong-footed, for a change. Then Jensen's smile relaxes again, and he stretches one hand out towards Sean. "Just gotta stop running from me, Sean."

His name sounds different when Jensen says it. The vowels are stretched, lingered over, and Jensen's lips make the most enticing shape around it. His own lips are dry, and he hides his hesitation in another swig of soda. "I'm not running."

"Oh, you are." Jensen tilts his head to one side. Sean resists the urge to fidget under his scrutiny. "I just can't figure out why."

The thought that Jensen's even trying to figure it out settles in Sean's chest, tight and hot, warmth spreading through his entire body. Not breaking Jensen's gaze, he stretches over the arm of the couch to set his can on the floor, and gives an over-casual shrug. "Not my territory."

"What? You're...shit, man." Jensen laughs, a joyous sound that brings an echoing bark from Teddy, shut away in the kitchen. "Then I guess it's mine."

Before Sean can even explain that he's actually referring to the house they're in, rather than the country or even the city, there's a grinning Texan straddling his lap, and his face is cradled between strong, tanned hands. "Jewel..."

"Set us up," Jensen supplies, grin somehow managing to widen even further. "And right now? I don't mind one bit."

For once, neither does Sean. Any thoughts of how many other times Jewel's tried to set him up with her friends disappear the moment that Jensen's mouth meets his, hot and demanding, breath warm against his cheek, and his eyelids fall closed, hands sliding over narrow hips, thumbs slipping into belt loops just in case Jensen gets any ideas about moving away. Not that he seems to have any of those ideas. Blunt fingers weave into his hair, and Jensen tastes of whiskey with a sweet edge of soda, and something else underneath. It's going to take a lot of kissing to get past the whiskey to find that hidden flavor.

Sean figures he's up to the task.

When Jensen draws back, Sean's eyes open slowly to see a slightly dazed look on Jensen's face, eyes dark, and those lips look even better when they're swollen and pink from kissing. His hands slide down to cup the firm curves he's been eying ever since he first saw Jensen bent over the pool table, and fingers dig in, drawing a breathless chuckle from Jensen. "Still wanna crash on the couch, Jensen?"

"Depends if you're gonna be naked on it." Jensen rolls sideways, dragging Sean with him, until they're both stretched out along the couch, certain negotiations of elbows and knees resolved, teeth scraping against Sean's jaw when a snatched kiss lands off-target. "Say my name again."

Sean grins, giddy on adrenaline. "Make me."


	6. Conflagration

Somewhere between the couch and the doorway, Sean forgets why this is a bad idea. Forgets nearly everything except the taste of Jensen's kiss, the heat of Jensen's body, the feel of Jensen's hands exploring his body. There are too many layers of fabric between hands and skin, protection against Vancouver winter transformed into frustrating barriers to more contact.

Between the bottom of the staircase and the top, Jensen turns into Jen, single syllable easier to murmur against lips, ear, neck, beating in time with Sean's increasing pulse, stumbling and catching one another , bodies pressing each other down on the stairs, legs tangling, flash of heat arcing through Sean at the realization of hardness against his hip, senses reeling and slowly surrendering.

Between the door and the bed, clothes are impatiently pushed, pulled and thrown aside, and Jen's even more fucking beautiful out of his clothes, enough to steal Sean's breath. Or that could be what Jen's hands are doing, confident fingers tracing down his spine and back up, moving further down each time, intoxicating tease bringing Sean's nerves to sharp awareness, sensation layered on sensation, his own hands and mouth mapping Jen's chest, abs, hips, eventually reaching to curl fingers around the vibrant heat of Jen's cock, heavy in his hand, reveling in the broken gasp that brings, and the smolder in eyes bled dark with lust, fixed on his own.

Jen breaks the silence with a breathless chuckle, shaking his head. "Gonna just hold it, Sean?"

Hearing his name that way, roughened by desire and Jen's accent, sparks urgency, killing any inclination to laugh in return. Instead, Sean offers a slow smile, spreading to a wicked grin as he launches himself on Jen, bearing him backwards to the bed, tumbling together in lust and laughter and sudden _freedom_ , mouths joined, hands grabbing at shoulders, backs, hips, buttocks, any sound except shallow breathing banished when Jen's erection nudges against his own, hot and hard and so fucking _there_.

And then Jen's poised over him, grin back, lips parted, strength and power barely contained, all his weight supported on hands and toes, no contact except their eyes. For a few dizzy heartbeats, neither of them moves, until Jen turns into a flurry of controlled motion, skin sliding against skin, maddening fever of Jen's mouth working down over Sean's torso to pause, teasing eyes locked with his. Before Sean can take another breath, those perfect lips are sliding over his cock, wet and insistent and perfect and shit, can't last, too good, so fucking perfect that it's nowhere near long enough before tension sets his hips trembling, fingers clawing at the sheets, back arching, incoherent sounds spilling from his mouth, Jen's name interspersed with curses.

A lifetime later, he opens his eyes to find Jen's face too close to focus on, and unwinds one hand from the bedding, reaching up to trace the line of Jen's jaw with a single finger, dragging against stubble, breath escaping in a shaky sigh. "Fuck."

"You're telling me." Jen leans in, and Sean can taste himself in Jen's mouth, salt undercutting the remnants of whiskey and still, still he can't track that elusive, unique flavor that he almost caught earlier. "Jesus, Sean."

Sean can't do much more than grin, bone-deep relaxation masking the low buzz of desire singing through his veins. "Not done yet."

They're not. Not when Sean's hand strokes over Jen's back, and Jen's hands return the favor, and Sean's muscles turn out to be quite recovered enough to wrap arms and legs around Jen and haul him in closer, and the only delay they've got is Sean scrambling across the bed to fetch lube from his bag - he's got condoms in his wallet, but he doesn't carry lube with him on a regular basis, he's not _Alan_ , for fuck's sake. And then the interruption's over, and then Jen's hands are reducing him to wordless reactions again, and then Jen's pushing into him, welcome burn stretching him open and oh, God, Jen's inside him, and over him, and around him, and under his hands and against his mouth and everything's Jen, the warm breath against his cheek, the half-muffled sounds fed into his neck and shoulder, the heady smell of sex and sweat in the air, fillings his lungs with each gasped breath. And then Jen's hands curve under Sean's ass and the angle shifts and then and then and then...

And then Jen's weight's pushing him down into the mattress, and Sean's fingers are scribing mindless, invisible patterns along Jen's spine, and his arms are full of sated, grinning Jen, and he's forgotten that the evening could ever have ended any other way.


	7. Banked Fires

It's still dark outside when Sean wakes. The curtains are open, streetlights and stars of a clear Canadian spring night lending an odd glow to the room, and it's a few heartbeats before he remembers. Jewel. Vancouver. Bar. Pool. _Jensen_. 

Turning his head, he studies the sleeping man. Starlight picks over his features, bleaching away the faint freckles to a clear perfection. Jensen's sprawled next to him, full lips curved in a slight smile, even in sleep and shit, what the fuck is he going to do about this one? 

He doesn't regret it. Can't regret it, each slight protest of muscles as he rolls out of bed reminding him of how fucking wonderful it's been so far, ghosts of Jen's hands and mouth tangible on his body. The trouble is, that's not all he's remembering. He's remembering the shape of Jen's smile, the sound of his breathless laughter, the light in his eyes. All those little details that mean Sean's already thinking of Jen as more than a one night stand. And he's got no idea at all how Jen's thinking of him.

Shit. He really, _really_ doesn't need this kind of complication right now. He's not filmed anything more than a pilot of anything since doing that fucking gay movie last year, and just maybe he should have listened to Linda when she'd told him it was a bad idea. Listened to Nathan and Morena, too, maybe. Still, there hadn't exactly been a wide range of jobs on offer. 

But _now_ he needs to be concentrating on work. On scoring that next contract, in L.A. - because that's where the work is. L.A., or back home in New York. Not in Vancouver where the beautiful man with the killer smile's based. Sure, Jewel's working up there, and Jen, and - what was the giant's name? - yeah, Jared, and probably a load of other people too, but sci-fi's not his thing, not really, despite Firefly. 

Trouble is, padding quietly across the room to find the bathroom without putting a light on, Sean's head's filled with thoughts of Jensen, intruding on the rationality he's trying to force on himself. And that should help, right? Knowing that he won't be seeing Jen again unless he gets a job so he can afford the fucking flights to get back to Canada again. Won't be seeing that face, the mischievous glances, the turn of head, the way Jen runs his hand though his hair when he's uncertain, feeling those same hands on his body and shit, he's getting hard again just at the memory. 

When Sean slips back through the doorway to see Jen sprawled out in bed, one arm outstretched across the space where he'd been lying, one eye cracked open to see him, one uncertain breath before one sleepy smile blossoms, rational flies right out the window. Because right now, it's easier to slide back into bed, roll into Jen's arms and kiss him again. And again, fingers splayed across the strength of Jen's jaw, stubble rough under his palm, lips soft on his own, tasting of sleep and Jen and now that the flavor of soda and whiskey's faded away, that's even better. Hard muscled body curled against him, breath warm across his cheek and Jen's kisses taste of sunshine, lazy summer days, heat and ease and afternoons that last forever. 

Jen groans and pulls Sean on top of him with a muttered "Fuck, Sean..." that reminds Sean that, yeah, Jen's voice is definitely hotwired straight to his dick, at least judging by his body's reaction, heat spiralling tight down his spine, hands dragging down to push against Jen's chest, lifting himself far enough to catch sight of Jen's face in the first grey light of false dawn. 

Rational can wait for morning.

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written in 1997 - hence some of the relationships involved. No disrespect meant to any of the people depicted herein; these characters are based on public representation of the people mentioned.
> 
> (I swear I wrote another part to this, but I can't find it on my journal. Anyone who can send it back to me will be warmly thanked, possibly with fic.)


End file.
